Jed and George locked eyes, the tension so thick it felt like the world had gone silent. Jed's deathly cold stare bore into George, whose calm, almost casual gaze held a confidence that made Jed's skin crawl. Behind them, Jose scrambled on hands and knees, disappearing into the cover of nearby rocks, his ragged breathing the only sound breaking the stillness.
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They stepped toward each other, closing the distance to just a few meters. The dusty ground shifted under their boots, the dry air electric with the promise of violence.
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"You ready to meet your maker, George?" Jed growled, his voice gravelly, with the faintest twinge of bitter humor.
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George smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Funny, Jed. I thought the same about you. But you've always been too stubborn to die, haven't you?"
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Jed flexed his fingers near the butt of his revolver. "That's one way to put it. But today ain't about stubbornness. It's about justice."
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George's smirk grew, his tone almost sympathetic. "Justice. What a quaint little word for what we're doing here."
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The countdown in their minds was deafening.
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Three.
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Two.
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One.
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George's hand darted to his holster, but Jed was faster. His gun was out in an instant, the shot ringing out like a crack of thunder. George fell back, clutching his chest as he hit the dirt.
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Jed moved forward, revolver trained on George. "Looks like you lost, boy."
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But George laughed—a low, chilling sound that sent a shiver up Jed's spine. "You're quick, Jed, I'll give you that. But you never saw the bigger picture."
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Jed's brow furrowed as he noticed the movement on his arm and leg—ants. They scuttled across his skin, small fragments of glass and metal fusing unnaturally into his flesh. He felt the sharp sting of the objects embedding themselves, followed by an overwhelming burn.
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"Damn it!" Jed cursed, his voice rising in pain and frustration. Without hesitation, he aimed the revolver at his arm and pulled the trigger. A shot to his leg followed as he dropped to one knee, blood oozing from the wounds but freeing him from the ants' grip.
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"You playin' dirty now, George," Jed spat, glaring at the man.
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George, still on the ground, grinned as he slowly sat up, revealing the untouched fabric of his shirt where Jed's bullet should have hit. "Who said I ever played clean, Jed? You should've known better than to trust a man with a dream."
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Before Jed could react, George's revolver was up and firing. The bullet struck Jed square in the stomach, and he crumpled to the ground with a grunt of pain.
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George rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his coat. He lifted his shirt to reveal the ants crawling across his skin, the tiny creatures forming a protective layer over his torso. "They've got my back, Jed. Literally."
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Jed coughed, his voice weak but dripping with venom. "You said you wouldn't use your damn bugs. You lied."
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George sighed, almost regretful. "I had to, old timer. You're too good. I couldn't beat you without them. And I have to win, Jed. For peace. For a chance to lie in the grass, feel the sun on my face, and finally let go of this world's suffering."
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He raised his gun, aiming at Jed's head.
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"Goodbye, Jed."
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Before he could fire, three rapid gunshots echoed through the air. George staggered, spinning around as blood blossomed across his side, shoulder, and leg. He stumbled, seeing Cody standing weakly in the distance, gun trembling in his hand.
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"George… you're under arrest," Cody said, his voice heavy with exhaustion and pain.
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George's vision blurred, and he fell to his knees, his revolver slipping from his grasp. His mind drifted, and for a moment, he saw them—his sister, his parents—standing in a field of green grass under a brilliant sky. The sun warmed his face, and peace filled his heart.
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But reality pulled him back, and he crumpled to the dirt. "Mom… Dad… Sister… I'm coming," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he flopped to the ground.
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Jed, clutching his stomach, struggled to his feet. He stumbled toward George's lifeless body, grimacing with every step. Cody limped up beside him, holding a glowing Holy Crystal in his hand, and then symbols appeared on his arm.
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"Here," Cody said, extending it to Jed. "I ain't lettin' you keep it, but… you can use it. Might give you some special power."
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Jed shook his head, his voice weary but firm. "Not for me. But my nephew… he might need it."
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Jed limped alongside Cody as they trudged through the desert night, their weary steps crunching over dry, cracked soil. They reached the spot where Charlie lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling faintly. The Holy Crystal pulsed softly in Cody's hand, its eerie glow illuminating their tired faces.
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Jed gave Cody a sidelong glance, his tone laced with suspicion and dry wit. "So, you're a sheriff, huh? That explains the high-and-mighty act back there?"
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Cody smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "Yeah, old man. Name's Sheriff Cody. Coos Bay's finest."
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Jed's lips curled into a grimace as he muttered under his breath, "Coos Bay. Well, hell. Ain't that just my luck?"
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Cody raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
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Jed waved him off, crouching down beside Charlie . "Means nothin'. Just reckon the only thing worse than my shootin' is your timing." He grunted, turning Charlie 's limp hand over. "Go on, then. Put that damn rock in his hand."
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Cody hesitated, staring at the glowing crystal. "You sure about this? We don't even know what it'll do to him."
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Jed's gaze hardened. "Boy's been through hell and back. If this thing's got a shot at helping, we owe it to him to try."
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Cody sighed, crouching beside Charlie . "Right, right." He gently placed the crystal into Charlie 's palm, the glow intensifying as it touched his skin. Suddenly, faint cuts appeared along Charlie 's arms, forming strange, unreadable symbols. Cody leaned in to study them, but the glow obscured the markings.
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"What the hell does it say?" Cody asked, his voice uneasy.
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Jed shook his head. "Damned if I know. Guess he'll figure it out when he wakes up. If he wakes up."
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Cody leaned back, rubbing his neck. "Well, I'll leave that mess to you. I've got my own path to walk."
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Jed looked up, squinting. "And where's that? Thought you were plannin' to play nursemaid to this one."
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Cody smirked, brushing dust off his coat. "Mexico. Got to get that 2nd crystal. Maybe I'll see you two around if you make it that far."
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Jed chuckled dryly, his voice rasping with weariness. "This boy's been yappin' about Mexico ever since we left the damn farm. Says he's got dreams down there." He shook his head. "Guess we'll see if they're big enough to survive the road."
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Cody adjusted his hat, his expression turning serious. "Just so you know, old man, if it comes down to it, I'll be the one takin' that crystal."
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Jed shot him a wry smile. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we? Hate to break it to ya, but this 'old man' ain't as easy to put down as you might think."
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Cody tipped his hat, calling for his horse. The animal trotted up, and Cody hoisted himself into the saddle, wincing at his still-fresh wounds. "Take care of yourself, Jed. And keep that kid in line. He's lucky to have you, even if you don't believe it."
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Jed grunted, watching Cody ride off into the fading light. "Luck ain't got nothin' to do with it," he muttered.
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Meanwhile, Jose nursed a drink at the dimly lit bar, his sharp eyes watching from the inside. Everyone in the bar glared at him, but Jose ignored them. His focus was on what he'd just witnessed: the power of the Holy Crystal.
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"So," he murmured to himself, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "The crystal gives abilities, huh?" A sly smile crept across his face as he leaned back, letting the shadows of the room conceal his expression. "Guess that means I'll be the one takin' it. One way or another."
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Jed crouched beside Charlie , his gruff exterior softening as he watched the boy's steady breathing. He adjusted his hat, sighing deeply.
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"Well, kid," he muttered, his voice low and reflective, "looks like you and I are still breathin'. Don't ask me how, but we are."
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The night stretched out around them, silent and vast. For a moment, Jed allowed himself to feel the weight of everything they'd been through—the blood, the pain, the losses. Then he shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
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"Guess we'll see what tomorrow brings, won't we?" he said, his voice barely a whisper.
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The snow fell in thick, relentless sheets, blanketing the Russian countryside in a cold, unyielding silence. The mansion, an imposing structure of dark stone and frosted iron, stood as a testament to power and wealth. Inside, the warmth of flickering firelight battled against the cold draft that seeped through the ancient walls.
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In the heart of the mansion, a study dominated the eastern wing. The room was vast, its high ceilings adorned with carved wooden beams. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty tomes in Russian, German, and Latin. A large oak desk sat near the back, but the real focus of the room was the pair of armchairs by the roaring fireplace. The General occupied one of them, his silhouette imposing as he held the Holy Crystal in his hand, its faint glow casting eerie shadows.
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Jacob, the scarred man, stood just a few steps away from the fireplace, his tall figure outlined by the golden light. The scent of aged leather and smoke hung heavy in the air.
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"Sir," Jacob said, his voice steady but tinged with reverence. "Thank you for granting me the honor of touching the Holy Crystal. It has...changed me." He flexed his fingers, as if still feeling the lingering power from the artifact. His Russian was fluent, precise, but his tone betrayed a mix of awe and ambition.
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The General switched to German, his words deliberate and laced with a faint accent. "Du hast es dir verdient, Jakob. Du bist mein treuester Mann. Ich vertraue dir mehr als allen anderen."
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("You have earned it, Jacob. You are my most loyal man. I trust you more than anyone else.")
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Jacob bowed his head slightly, his scars deepening with the motion. "Danke, Herr General. Ich werde dich nicht enttäuschen."
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("Thank you, General. I will not disappoint you.")
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The General smiled, though it was more a baring of teeth than an expression of warmth. He leaned back, switching to Russian as he ran his thumb over the smooth surface of the crystal. "Хорошо. Теперь слушай внимательно."
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("Good. Now listen carefully.")
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The General stood, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room. He paced to the window, gazing out at the swirling snowstorm as if lost in thought. "I need you to go to Mexico," he said, his voice steady but heavy with command. "Take Paw-law with you."
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Jacob nodded, his posture rigid. "Да, товарищ генерал. Мы отправимся немедленно."
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("Yes, Comrade General. We will leave immediately.")
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The General turned, his smirk barely visible in the flickering light. "Грядущая эпоха принадлежит России," he declared, his voice rising with fervor.
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("The coming era belongs to Russia.")
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He paused, switching back to German, the shift in language almost seamless. "Und vielleicht auch Deutschland. Es ist schließlich meine Heimat."
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("And perhaps Germany as well. It is, after all, my homeland.")
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Jacob met his gaze, the fire in his eyes matching the General's intensity. He clenched his fist and shouted in unison with his leader, "Слава России!"
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("Glory to Russia!")
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The General echoed the cry, louder, fiercer. "Слава России! Und die Welt wird unser sein!"
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("Glory to Russia! And the world will be ours!")
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Jacob turned on his heel, his boots echoing sharply against the hardwood floor. As he reached the door, the General called out one last time, his voice softer but no less commanding.
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"Do not fail me, Jacob. Everything depends on this mission."
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Jacob glanced back, his expression resolute. "Я не подведу вас."
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("I will not fail you.")
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The door shut behind him with a heavy thud, leaving the General alone in the room. He stood by the window, watching the snow swirl against the darkened glass. A faint, satisfied smirk played on his lips.
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"Скоро," he whispered in Russian, his voice almost a hiss. "Россия будет величайшей в истории."
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("Soon, Russia will be the greatest in history.")
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Then, almost as an afterthought, he murmured in German, "Und Deutschland wird nicht vergessen."
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("And Germany will not be forgotten.")
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The General's hand tightened around the Holy Crystal as he stared into the storm, his vision of conquest reflected in the frost-covered pane.
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